They told him he was too introspective,
that he should write more about nature;
so he pondered on the poetry of nature
and on the nature of poetry.
They told him to go out and look at a tree
then write a poem from the experience;
so he pondered on the nature of experience
and on distinguishing word from thing.
Long he sat, damp-arsed in an ancient field,
then bowed to the mighty oak that boughed to him;
he did not ponder - the poem he gave them simply said
go out and look at a tree.